


Fix You Up

by Duck_Life



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: s07e08 Hearts Still Beating, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:13:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8830078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: Eric patches up his boyfriend. Aaron can't stop thinking about the day's events.





	

When people begin to fade off, leaving Rick alone in the street with Spencer’s dead body, Eric turns and immediately helps Aaron to the infirmary— which, now that they’ve lost their second doctor, is really just “Tara’s house.” He starts muttering about painkillers and antiseptic and bandages, rummaging around in the room after propping Aaron up on a cot. “You’re gonna be okay,” he promises, breathing heavy. “I’ve got you,” he says as he fills his arms with medicine and gauze and makes his way toward Aaron. “I’ve got you.”

Aaron just kind of nods, blinking blood out of his eyes. He feels like his whole body’s full of lead. Eric tries lifting Aaron’s arms up to pull his shirt off but Aaron winces, curling his arms back down. “I can’t, I can’t,” he says, shaking his head back and forth. “Hurts.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Eric tells him, trying to keep his hands from tremoring with panic. He reaches for the scissors on the table and cuts Aaron’s shirt off, throwing aside the scraps.

It’s like walking into a nightmare. Aaron’s ribs are painted with bruises and blood, all purple and black and red. He hunches in on himself like it hurts to sit upright. His bare arms are sleeved with even more bruises. Eric feels bile rise in his throat, and it clicks with him that if he saw Aaron walk through the gate like this, he’d probably think his boyfriend was a walker.

“Okay,” Eric says, and holds a shaking hand over his mouth. “Okay. I’ll… you’re gonna be okay.” It comes out like a sob. Aaron tries to reach out a hand to him but it hurts too much, so he settles for leaning forward and letting his shoulder rest on Eric’s.

“I am,” he says. “I am going to be okay. We both are.”

Finally, Eric’s hands stop shaking long enough for him to start patching Aaron up. With water and then with alcohol, he cleans what he can of Aaron’s chest and face. It stings and Aaron’s clearly in pain but he keeps his jaw tight, watching Eric work.

“We’ll get you… we’ll get you fixed up,” Eric babbles while he dabs at Aaron’s cheek. “And we still have plenty of painkillers and you can just… can just lay on the couch all days and I’ll read to you, alright?” He gives Aaron a shaky smile and then refocuses. “Of course, I don’t know if… there might be some internal bleeding. We should probably talk about taking you to the Hilltop to see the doctor there, Rick might—”

“Stop.” It’s guttural and low and broken, and Eric’s hand freezes over Aaron’s face. “Stop,” Aaron says again, “just, please, just please stop.” Eric puts the rag down, shuts up, not sure what Aaron wants him to do. “They pointed a gun at you.”

“I know, I was there,” Eric says, throwing in a cheeky smirk that stops short of his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“I’m not.” Aaron shifts on the cot, groaning as he does, so he can be closer to Eric, so he can lean forward until their foreheads touch. “I thought— I thought— I don’t know what I thought. I thought it was over. Like, suddenly, in a second, like they were just gonna...” He cuts himself off with a loud shudder, pain and fear and doubt warbling out. “And I couldn’t do anything, and I tried, and I couldn’t do anything.”

“It’s okay,” Eric says for what feels like the millionth time. He puts a hand up to cup the side of Aaron’s face and they’re both crying. “You said it. We’re both okay.”

“They were going to kill you,” Aaron says, and it hurts to breathe and it hurts to cry and the heart pounding in his chest feels like a hammer striking at him, over and over and over. “They were going to kill you.”

“But they didn’t,” Eric says, wishing he could wrap his arms around Aaron without hurting his battered ribs. “I’m right here.”

“Right,” Aaron nods like he needs to keep reminding himself. “Right. It’s just. That whole time they were… hurting me, I kept thinking… this is fine. As long as I don’t die, this is fine, this is something I can take. As long as my heart’s still beating, right?”

“Right.”

“And then they pointed that gun at you,” Aaron says. “And I swear to God, Eric, my heart stopped.” With a soft choking sound, he leans into Eric’s hand. “I can’t do that. I couldn’t do that. I can’t do that. If you were… if they killed…” He takes one deep breath in and out to steady himself, and it hurts like hell. In a low voice, he tells Eric, “Maggie must be strong as hell. I couldn’t do what she… Eric, if you were gone I’d be… gone. I’m not strong like that.”

Aaron’s eyes are black and bloody and his upper lip is split, and Eric leans in and kisses him and holds him like he’s the only good thing left in the world because hell, he probably is. “You are strong,” Eric tells him. “And so am I. But we’re stronger together. And that’s okay.”

Slowly, slowly, Aaron gives him a small nod. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. That’s okay.” Aaron kisses him, reassuring and comforting and lost and found. And Eric smiles, runs a thumb over his purpling cheekbone, and reaches once again for the gauze.


End file.
